Voldermort's Darkest Hour
by AngelicGirl
Summary: R for violence and dark themes. An interview with Voldermort which will frighten you. Is even scary for the author to write. please Review if you dare read.


~Voldermorts Darkest Hour~  
  
**Best if read in the middle of the night, or at least in the dark**  
  
  
It is very lucky for us that I have found him. I spent many years searching. I've asked him of his life, and he's told me everything. It's facinating.   
Have you ever wanted to see inside Voldermort's mind? Of course you have. He lays beyond that door. In those small, dark chambers, among the shadows.   
  
If you are brave enough, if you are pure enough, if you want the answers badly enough, enter. Enter and have your world toppeled over.   
Be prepared to be corrupted. Remain steadfast in your beliefs you may leave without your perception altered, but i doubt it.  
  
  
*The door swings open. The air feels stale, but you enter. Curiosity drives you on. A chair sits, it's back facing you. The occupent is gazing out a window.   
It was storming outside. The room is hot yet cold, silent yet full of thoughts. A voice began to speak.  
  
"You there, i know you're there. Come in. Don't be frightened. I'm old, and quite harmless. Not many would reconize me now, if they did I would be in Azkaban.  
No, i'm free to finish off my five years in this dark castle, in this dark room. The world looks so dark tonight, wouldn't you say?   
That storm raging outside...it's warm in the castle, but can you feel the cold? Can you feel it? I can. I feel it in my blood, in my bones.  
I feel the empty cold in the echos around me. Sins which will never fade, screams that will never die. Blood, blood that will never wash away.   
I'm drownding in blood....but i still love the taste.  
  
They say a man who regrets his sin is never beyond hope. But i regret nothing. You'd expect me to, wouldn't you, expect me to be...what? sorry?   
Don't fool yourself, i thrive on my sins. My sins were a power. I devoted my life to a cause, only to have it shot down. Killed by those who never understood it.   
You've probably come to ask me about it, haven't you? Ask me why i did it."   
  
He adapted a high-pitched tone. "Oh, why did you kill all those people!" "Why did you turn to evil?" "Oh, WHY do you hate muggleborns!" He waild, mocking.   
The chair turned abruptly, and you face him. He is old, perhaps 80 years. The glint in his red eyes has never died. And a thin smile was tugging at his lips.   
  
"Do you really want those answers? WHY i did all of it? Can you really handel it all? You with your black-and-white perception of right and wrong.   
Isn't their any grey in your world? I suppose not. Well, some of this story takes place in the grey, but most of it in the pitch black darkness.   
Can you survive that sort of darkness? If you go, you have to stay for the ENTIRE journey. You can't cut out whenever you may become scared.   
If you know any of it, you must know the whole truth.   
  
Very well, we'll take that jornery. Your tour guide is a madman by most standards. Strange, isn't it?   
Some say brilliance boarders on madness, i say my madness boarders on brilliance.  
  
Another thin smile. The old man leaned back in his chair. Closing his eyes, he adaptes a smoother tone. No varyation, in order to paint a picture.  
  
" It all started in my childhood. I knew from the beginning i was very special. You see, i loved to organize things.   
I had two chests of toys when i was eight years old. Naturally, i didn't like having two chests. Who would? It's so...scattered.   
Which toy is in which box? So, of course i did the logical thing. I purified the collection.   
That is to say, i sorted out the best toys, just enough for one box, then i burnt the rest, along with the other box. I kept the best box too.   
Any logical person would understand, i simply wanted only the best, one group, and i was happy.   
  
Around the time i was ten years old i had four friends. It soon became apperent to me all of them possesed black hair, all accept one girl, her name was Vicky.   
You cannot imagen how much her blond curls infuriated me; she set the group off balence. She purposly did it, always swinging her hair around, just so it would be noticed.   
She LIKED being different, it was disgusting. One day, she was quite asking for it, i pushed her in the river we use to play near by.   
Everyone found it quite funny. She didn't want to play with us anymore. I was so relieved. I couldn't stand her, with her blond curls flying everywhere.   
  
Then, when i was eleven, it also became apperent to me that while all my friends were smart, Julia was not quite as smart as the rest of us.   
I noticed we were all boys, accept for her. I was very young when i realized men were superior to women.   
Oh, people try to say "we're equal, no one is better" but i know better, i hope you do two. So, i cast her out of the circle too. I only wanted the best people for friends.   
And she wasn't worthy to be with us.   
  
That year, i began a strange habbit, even today i think it strange. At dinner, i would eat one thing at a time. First my vegtable, then my meat, and so on.   
I never mixed the foods. It felt wrong, still does. My mother was quite irritated about it.   
Very controling woman, my mother was, she use to swat the side of my head when my organization disturbed her.   
I never stopped though, it would have been sick, it have it all jumbled together. She never loved me; she loved my father.   
It is my firm believe each person can only love one person. I know it is true.   
When it comes down to it, you may like several people, but you only love the most important person in your life.  
  
Anyway, that year i went off to Hogwarts. You can imagen how happy i was. Everything was neat and orderly.   
Four houses foor us to be seperated into, seven different groups of people, measured in years.   
Twelve teachers, which divided perfectly into three teachers per house. Six classes. All very orderly. But in my third year, something began to disturb me.   
The four houses, though seperated were...joined. There were inner-house friendships, groups with an odd number of people, it was quite disturbing.   
Too much for my rock-hard will, which insisted on cemitry and organization. So i did my part in breaking friendships in order for eveness.   
Oh, who did it really hurt? Others found friends. Those who didn't...well it was their fault anyway that i had to break them up in the first place.  
Eventually, that matter was settled, and those who kept having odd numbers and different houses...i just had to look away.  
  
But by fifth year there was no stopping another bit that was eating me alive. This burning desire to seperate the muggle-borns from the old wizzarding families.   
Why? Because chaos comes with disorganization. Mixing was disorganizing. It perplexed me how they could simply deny any difference between them. It was strange.  
Perople to this day, still deny differences. I don't run from difference, i sort it out...it's what i've always done....  
  
Soon, i began to speak to my friends about my thoughts, some just didn't understand, but there were a number of slytherins whom did.   
They thought it was in insult to share a school with muggle-borns. That's when it finally came to me. It wasn't just that we were different then muggle-borns, we were better.   
We were better casters, better flyers, better in blood and better in everything.   
  
I gathered five of my friends, we took an oath. Never to respect muggle-borns, to accept them for the filthy, tainted scum they were.   
To make their lives miserable, to look down on them.  
Most importantly, to let them know we were better. Because we are.  
  
As the next two years passed, most of my house, Slytherin house, joined in our group, in our oath.   
The teachers tried to punish us, they'd make us scrub the floors without magic, all kinds of detention.   
And we did them, but we chanted "Get rid of the mudbloods" through every detention, always, and they couldn't stop us; no one could.   
  
Near the end of seventh year, we decided to give ourselves a mark. It fed our power, helped us remember our place.   
We carved an S on the inside of our hands, with a needle, the line was thin. We used a charm to color it black.   
I always liked black, it's by far the most superior color, because it's the darkest, the most dominating.   
Just like in the sky...the sky is so much more feirce when it's black, like now...  
  
After graduation, many of us went off to work. I worked at the MInistry, i was a secretary at first. I rejoiced in filing all the papers, organizing.   
I saw my friends less and less...and life became a jumble. Men and women equal...old and young working together, and their was no way to tell the mudbloods apart,   
unless you asked...I began to loose my mind, to fidgit, so i took a vacation. I retreated into the hills, to a private cabin i rented.  
  
It was all very sudden. There was an earthquake. A small one. I stayed in the cabin; i wasn't worried. Hours later a woman was at my door.   
She was a witch, i could tell. She had blond hair, such bright blond hair it reminded me of Vicky so much. She was evacuating the area.   
It was dangerous, she said in a bossy manner. It was quite usless for her to fake superiority; she was a woman, and so i was better, but she had forgotten her place.  
  
I asked, casually, if she came from a very old wizard family, she said no, she was muggleborn. I slamed the door in her face.   
What place did a female muggleborn have telling me to leave? I returned to the kitchen, where i had been cutting carrots to put in my stew.   
  
The impertinate bitch appearated inside my kitchen! I was loosing my temper, i remember how warm i felt, but i just kept cutting.   
I was aware of her yelling at me, it was the final insult. I just wanted her to shut up...to shut up...so i turned around an ran the knife through her.   
To my great surprise, she stopped speaking. She looked up at me, i'll never foget that feeling of right, of POWER, she sank to her knees, looking helpless, but she wan't dead yet.   
  
She might have still lived. She looked at me, angry, and somthing insdie me became clear. I had to punish her.   
I slid the knife into her again, i threw her to the ground, tore off her close and ravaged her, again and again, until she cried for mercy.   
But i din't stop, she had to know i was better, to KNOW i was better. I don't know how long i fucked her, perhaps hours after she was dead.   
She died with that defient look on her face, so i carved it off, her face i mean. I carved it off. It was quite messy, but for some reason it was alright that SHE was messy.   
She was filth, she didn't deserve to be organized.   
  
After i cut it off, i mutilated her body. I liked to pretend she was still alive...that i could hear her screams. I cut off ramdom body parts, i loved the sound of her screams.   
I fucked her again, in my mind she was crying. That was only more sadasfying.  
  
Hours later, i left her there, on the floor. I had to see my friends, i had to tell them. I knew now, everything was so clear. I had to let them know; we could do so much.  
When i told them of the feeling, the rush, and the service the...purification...they all realized we had a mission.   
We had to show the wizarding world how filthy mudbloods were, we had to show the mudbloods how filthy they were.   
  
We put together the first group of Death Eaters. We divised symbols, a code of honner, a mission statement, we used my mannor at first.   
There were barly twenty-two of us. After a week or so of torturing, of killing mudbloods, it became apperent we would have to take false names to avoid Azkaban.   
Strange, i never figured we'd be sent to Azkaban for purifying the filth of the world, but the world is closeminded, very much so.   
I took the name Voldermort, i was the leader, of course. No one lived for the cause like i did. There is no Tom Riddle, only Voldermort.   
And i sacraficed myself to the cause. It was my branichild, and i brought it to life.   
  
The ignorent, well, they tried to stop us of course, but we mowed them all down.   
Our number grew, we needed a way to distuingish eachother from others, so i invented the Dark Mark.  
It took my weeks. Finally, i made it perminate. I love the roundness, the symitry of the scull, it is organized perfection.   
  
We all branded ourselves with it. We were....a super race. The best...and we lived like kings. I will never forget my work, hours upong hours of perfecting torture methods.   
Ways to keep them...alive and push the pain to the maximum.   
Some Death Eaters killed out of blood-lust, some refused to rape because they didn't want to soil themselves with the mudbloods.   
I always raped the women, every one. It was for maximum results, the most pain...humiliation, and they deserved it.   
They practiacly asked for it. It was my duty, but i bore the burdon gladly.   
  
Years pressed on. I saw a vision, of all of us ruleing surpreme. No mudbloods in the world, we'd wipe out the race. Only those of us who were pure.   
But then, there was my downfall. One stupid infant. What really happedned? Why did the famous Harry Potter defeat me?   
  
I went to that family, and killed the father. Then, some of the hysterical cries of the mother sank in: She was claiming her husband was a pureblood wizard.   
Naturaly, i killed her; she was muggle-born after all. Then i searched around for any sign that she might have told the truth. I couldn't have killed him, a pure wizard, one of my own.   
I found a family tree. The enchanted kind wizards keep. Sure enough, he had been a purblood. He was on the tree.   
It's green leaves mocked me, forming each name, famous wizards, great wizards. And i had killed their spawn. All that remained was their half-blooded child.   
It was filth, a broken link in a pure family. A disgrace. No one needed to know i killed a pureblood. It was a mistake, i cried. I simply tried to kill the child, but my heart wasn't in it.   
I recited the spell several times, too quietly, too clipped, or not pronouncing the words properly. I said it so many times in the same place it started to leave a mark on his forhead.  
I couldn't kill him.   
  
I'm not sure if i Avada Kadavaed myslef, or if, strange as it sounds, the baby did it. To this day, i don't remember what happened.   
I think perhaps i lost my mind a moment, in that house, smelling the blood of my kind. Surely a baby couldn't have...it was SO filthy, i just wanted it to die.   
But i lost my powere instead. I transformed into my animal form, a snake, of course. As i slithered out of that house, i ddin't know if i had killed the child, or why i had changed.   
I changed forms...almost without realising it. Deep in thought and grief, i decided one hundred mudbloods had to die in memory of the pure wizard killed.   
I never saw that damned car, filthy muggle devise, it ran me over. It shattered my snake body, but i was still alive.   
To my horror, i couldn't change back. I was no longer the snake, or a human, i just was. I simply existed, a parasite. I couldn't return to my brothers, my Death Eaters.   
  
I watched my empire crumble. Do you know the exhistance without a body? Do you know the despiration, the need to purify, to kill...and to mearly suffer through it.   
Eventualy i developed a shadow-like material. I was a shadow. Three years later, i had finally been sucessful in speaking aloud.   
I suppose my body was regenerating itself, all i could think of at the time was comming back to power, continuing my task.  
  
I finally latched onto a supporter of mine. I tried to kill that child, that filthy boy, but the man i fed on was weak, and he failed.   
Each year i surfaced in some form, only to be killed again. Several years later, i took that boys blood, the blood of my enemy, and created a body.   
I killed all who had been unfaithful to me, tried to kill him, but alas, he was always in protection. It became an obsession. I lost sight of my mission.   
  
In my rage, my anger for him, i killed 34 random people, an even number of course. Killed them all at once. It was in Hogsmade.   
I wanted that boys blood, he defied my organization...my mission.   
  
But that brings us to now. I killed 34 people that day. 20 of them pure blood wizards. I had to pay for my mistake, my haste.   
I keep myself in this castle. I can't leave it for another five years. I will spend twenty years here, imprisoned, for the twenty pureblood brothers i killed, it's only respectful.   
For the past fifteen years i have been caculating my plans. When the five final years pass, the boy will beg for mercy at my feet and i shall rule supreame.   
I'll rebuild my world, a nation of young Death Eaters, and this time, i'll be carful. Presise. I will never stray from the cause, and i will never, ever stop.  
  
Have i answered your questions now?   
Do you now understand why i cannot live with this plauge of filth among my world?   
It's a selfless mission, and i will fufil it."   
  
Suddenly, the door locked. You can hear the latch slide into place. You haven't any wand. I took it from you when you entered.  
  
"Do you wonder why i bothered to tell you the whole story, you muggle-born filth? Do you? Days are long and tedious here.   
I thought perhaps it would help you understand how filthy and vial you are. You exsist mearly to be taught a lesson.   
You'll learn from the master teacher. Didn't you realize your worthlessness, your disgrace? I promise before the night is over you will.   
Look outside, at the raging storm. You'll never seen another sunrise, only a black sky."*  
  
  
  
~~Everyone who is still with me, reading this. I want to apoligize. When i decided to write this...i had no clue it would come out so...sick and twisted and dark.   
The fact that this comes from my mind is almost disturbing.   
  
I fancy myself a bit of an actress. I knew the only way i could write an accurate account was to get into such a twisted mind, a sick mind.   
I envisioned Voldermort as an obsessive compulsive. As you can see, in my fic he is quite mad, crazy that is. I study psycology, it mearly seemed right.   
I spent hours getting into Voldermorts character to create...this.   
It felt like it had to be written. For the breif hour i wrote this...i was inside the mind of Voldermort, well i told myslef that.   
  
Usually, when i write, i imagen the character standing behind me, dictating. But this time, for some odd reason, i imagened being the character.   
It was scary to plunge into such a character, to pretend to be such a person, but i am genuinly proud of this work.   
I don't know how people will take to this. I wanted to tell the story, and i told it, best i can.   
You'll either be revolded or awed or neutral, i really don't know what sort of reaction this will get. Please review and let me know what you thought.~~ 


End file.
